


Not Quite Finished Yet

by dizzy



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-13
Updated: 2004-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://glass-moment.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://glass-moment.livejournal.com/">glass_moment</a>, to <strike>distract her from</strike> inspire her to finish her homework.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Not Quite Finished Yet

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://glass-moment.livejournal.com/profile)[glass_moment](http://glass-moment.livejournal.com/), to ~~distract her from~~ inspire her to finish her homework.

It was over, it had been over for years. Billy thought that it was time he faced that fact. He trudged on, year after year, convention after convention, but lines grew shorter, the stack of pictures he scribbled his name on dwindled, the smiling faces that knew his name grew more marked with age. He hadn't thought it would last this long but he hadn't ever really pictured it reaching an either, either.

He was a success in life - a celebrity but not a star, respected but not revered. He enjoyed it, enjoyed the peace that life and good fortune had granted him. He hadn't wanted for material things since Lord of the Rings and he could never work another day in his life and still have enough money to live comfortable, if not extravagently. He didn't need extravagence - but he did need work. He needed to fill his days, to get out of the house and away from himself and his dreary nostalgic lingerings.

There has been no work today. There has been no work yesterday, or the day before. In fact, it have been a good many days since Billy had been in front of a camera.

There wasn't much of a call for aging hobbits with green, green eyes and Scottish accents.

Elijah has a career. Elijah is a Star. Sean has his politics and his brood of children and his public image to keep him company on cold, lonely nights. Orlando has his mobs of screaming fans. Viggo and Liv and Miranda, they all haved whatever it is that keeps happy people happy and smiling and squinting from the flash of a camera.

And Dom... Billy stands abruptly, startled by the sharp jangle of the phone on the table in front of him. He stares at it for a moment, still muddling his way through the reverie he had been captured in. He's not surprised by the number that he sees when he finally does look, three rings later.

"Bills!" Dom says, his voice thick with excitement. "You'll never guess-" He starts to say, before the cell phone he's on dissolves into a series of gargling static bursts.

"No, I won't, if I can't bloody hear you," Billy says, knowing that he's being too short with Dom and not overly concerned, seeing as Dom probably can't hear him anyway. Or at least, that's his reasoning.

"Billy- I'm at-" Static. "-can't believe i-" Static. "-wish you-" Static.

"Dom, I can't fucking hear you. Call me back when you find a real phone." Billy hangs up, feeling anger bubbling underneath the surface, mixing with poorly contained bitterness.

He doesn't know Dom's exact location, but he can guess. A party somewhere, probably America, maybe England, depends on how he was feeling when he bought the plane ticket two days ago.

Yeah, two days ago Dom bought a plane ticket. Two and a half days ago, Dom was sitting right there on that accursed couch laughing at a one of Billy's corniest jokes like he hadn't already heard it twenty times and sipping on a cup of tea. Three days ago, Dom had been squished into a tiny booth at the back of Billy's favorite pub, his arm wrapped around Billy's shoulders, breath tinged with alcohol and smoke that seemed to seep into their pores the minute they stepped into the building. Four days ago, Dom had been in the front row at the local theatre, watching one of Billy's closest friends in his debut as Hamlet and politely not asking why Billy hadn't gone for the role. He didn't ask because he already half-knew the answer - that Billy _had_ gone for it, he just hadn't gotten it.

For the two days that Dom had been in Scotland, Billy had felt something within himself calm. It felt almost like lotion over a sunburn, soothing and comforting him. But Dom had gone, too impatient and too damned enegertic to stay in one place for long. Billy's penchant for partying wandered away long ago... he doesn't like large crowds, and nameless faced with plastic bodies can't hold his attention like they used to. All he wants now is peace, but he can't seem to grab ahold of it just right by himself. He needs someone to finish his sentances, someone to know how he likes his coffee.

Once up on a time, Billy had considered Dom the only person in the whole damned world that really understood him. Now, he doesn't know what to think. He's not even sure he knows himself all that well anymore.

An hour later, Billy is sitting on his couch with the remote in one hand and a shotglass in the other. The glass is empty, but only for the moment as he did think to bring the entire bottle with him. He's nearly reached the stage of oblivion when he hears the doorbell. He is saved the trouble of stumbling to his feet; the person on the other side has a key already and only wanted to give Billy a moment's warning before barging in.

Dom drops his overnight bag on the floor and shrugs off his jacket, eyes bright and grin wide. "Didn't think I'd ever get out of that bloody airport-" And then he stops, noticing that the lights are off and Billy isn't looking too bright himself. "Something wrong?"

Billy grunts and shrugs, or at least he thinks he does. Dom's brow is furrowed, the little wheels in his head spinning at full speed. "Did something happen?"

"You." Billy tilts the bottle and watches as only a few droplets drip from the thick, brown rim into his glass.

Dom reaches out, takes the bottle and the shotglass and puts them on the table. "Ah, fuck it, Bills, you've gone and gotten plastered on me, eh? Didn't you hear me on the phone? Fuckin' thing, never comes in when I need it... Geez, Bill, Margaret told me you were lonely but I didn't even realize 'till... ah, but that doesn't matter..."

Dom keeps talking but the words jumble together in Billy's mind. He can't really focus at all, broken phrases filter in and out of his conciousness - Dom, home, stay, don't leave - and sensations, he feels himself smiling because he can smell Dom, wants to reach out and touch -

But then it fades away, it all fades away and the next thing Billy is aware of is a pounding headache and a mouthful of cotton, or at least that's how it seems to him. He vaguely remembers... Dom. He grunts, not wanting to find out if it was a dream or not. But then he smells coffee - wonderful, strong coffee, just what he needs - and he hears an off-key tune coming from the kitchen, no, the hall, no... the doorway.

"Still with the beauty rest? Hate to tell you, Bills," Dom says as he bounces onto the bed, sending splinters of pain through Billy's temples, "But it takes more than a bad attitude and a pint of whiskey to run me off."

Billy can smell Dom again, the scent is almost cloying, it's so close, but... it's not, because it's suddenly all Billy wants and he doesn't want to open his eyes ever again, because he likes knowing that Dom is here beside him. He doesn't know why Dom's come back and he doesn't want to know because he doesn't want Dom to leave and he thinks that maybe if he never moves and never asks that Dom will never leave. But Dom did come back, and after only two days, and doesn't that mean something?

"Silly git." Dom whispers, pressing his lips into the back of Billy's neck and proving for the hundredth time that he really can read Billy's mind. "LA is bloody depressing this time of year. You've got plenty of room here... and I've been thinking that I could use a nice long rest. A few months, maybe? A nice rest is what I need. I'm tired, Billy," Dom stretches out on his stomach beside Billy, resting his head on Billy's shoulder blade. "Tired of lots of things. I know you've been pissed at me, Bill, and I'm sorry - I knew the minute I got back that this was where I belonged, with you, with my best mate, with my soulmate. I needed to wrap some stuff up back in the States and I wanted to surprise you... figured you wouldn't mind me crashing here... guess I should have said something before I left, about coming back. You sister called me, you know. Said you sounded kind of down. I didn't think... well, I just didn't think. Sorry, Bills, sorry. But I'm back now. You will let me stay, won't you?" Dom says suddenly, sounded slightly worried, as if he hadn't even considered the possibility that Billy wouldn't want him to.

Billy would sigh, if his face weren't buried in the pillow. "Of course." He says, just that and nothing more because he can't think of anything else that needs saying. Later, he'll have to think over this and make some sort of rational decision about it but for now his emotions are telling him to just accept it, and he's perfectly willing to go along with that.


End file.
